


a good man

by gortysproject



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Does Not Pass The Bechdel Test (Yet), Eiffel is living with Minkowski, Gen, Post-Canon, Protective Mother Kate, Spoilers for up to episode 61, Two Ladies I Love Very Much Sit Down And Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 10:58:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13996821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gortysproject/pseuds/gortysproject
Summary: Renée stands up, smiles as comfortingly as she can, and asks, “Kate García?”“Renée Minkowski?” replies Kate inquisitively, and Renée notes the Mexican tint to her accent. She just nods in response, fixing her blazer before gesturing for Kate to take a seat in the booth she’d picked.Kate shrugs her jacket off. “So,” she starts, slightly awkward, “you’re… representing Goddard Futuristics, yes?”“I—” Renée hesitates. “Did say that, didn’t I.”





	a good man

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i've had it in my head for a long time that eiffel doesn't have the guts to make the first move re: kate and anne, so minkowski just... does it for him? which led to me imagining her and kate meeting up and chatting which led to uhhh this

Renée watches the ripples flow across the surface of her coffee as the entire diner trembles from the plane taking off only a handful of miles away. It’s not the first place she would have chosen to talk; the lights are bright, almost clinical, and there’s a bell attached to the door that rings every time someone walks inside. A baby is screaming in the corner and his mother is reaching for her fourth, fifth refill of filter coffee, hands shaking. Renée idly tracks the waiter with her eyes as he pockets a fifty-cent tip. The overhead speakers blare some pop song she’s never heard before. (There are a lot of those.)

Her gaze flickers over to the door as the bell rings, again, and an anxious-looking woman steps through the door. She’s tall. Her hair is black and curls naturally into ringlets around her shoulders, framing her face beautifully and almost hiding the tired wrinkles lining her forehead. No wedding ring. No makeup.

Kate García turns to scope out the restaurant, and as her eyes settle on Renée, the nervous crease of her brow tightens slightly. She makes her way over. Whatever synth pop was playing on the radio before begins to die down.

Renée stands up, smiles as comfortingly as she can, and asks, “Kate García?”

“Renée Minkowski?” replies Kate inquisitively, and Renée notes the Mexican tint to her accent. She just nods in response, fixing her blazer before gesturing for Kate to take a seat in the booth she’d picked.

Kate shrugs her jacket off. “So,” she starts, slightly awkward, “you’re… representing Goddard Futuristics, yes?”

“I—” Renée hesitates. “Did say that, didn’t I.”

Their phone conversation had been brief—Minkowski had mentioned that she wanted to talk to Kate face-to-face about some business concerning Goddard Futuristics, and Kate had simply named a time and a place. Apparently, the woman is nothing short of dedicated to her daughter. It’s relieving.

“I need to, uh, talk to you about something—not the contract with your daughter. That’s fine. More about… _why_ Goddard chose to fund your daughter’s recovery.” Lifting the coffee mug to her lips, Renée finds her palms uncharacteristically sweaty. She was never made for PR. That was always Dominik’s side. “And to do that, I think I’m going to have to explain a whole lot more. You might want to get coffee.”

Kate eyes her warily, and Renée can hardly blame her. Still, she motions the waitress over, asking if the diner offers any sweet teas. The waitress responds that all they have on offer is a chai latte, and Renée jerks and spills her coffee on the table.

The waitress is kind enough to wipe up the mess and refill her mug. Kate says nothing. A minute later, her chai is brought out, and Minkowski chooses not to look at it.

“I was a commander,” she tells Kate, “of a deep space survey mission. I was in space for four years. All I had of my crew was a science officer, a communications officer and a station AI.” She swallows. “I had to trust them with my life. We had no other choice, not in an environment that dangerous. I knew very little about the three of them and they knew equally little about me.”

“What does that have to do with—”

Renée interrupts her. “After a… long time, and a lot of surprises, I found out Goddard Futuristics had faked my death back on Earth. My husband thought I was dead. My family thought I was dead. The same went for my crew—theoretically, none of us had survived the journey up to the station, let alone the years after it.”

Kate frowns. “Why would they do that?”

“Because we were never supposed to make it back from that mission.” Renée takes another sip of her coffee, and she feels her leg begin to bounce nervously under the table. “When Goddard was discussing the contract with you about your daughter’s medical bills, did a man named Marcus Cutter ever get in contact with you?”

The change in conversational direction seems to throw Kate for a moment, and she blinks, taking a moment to answer. “Um, yes. He visited our house a few times.”

“Rachel Young?”

Kate presses her lips together. “I think so. I recognise the name.”

Minkowski goes out on a limb. “Warren Kepler?”

“Once, yes.” Kate takes a sip of her tea. “I remember him. Only introduced himself to me, really, and spent the rest of his time talking to Anne while I discussed her progress with Mr Cutter, and—why? Why are you asking me about these people?”

The image flashes across Minkowski’s mind, then—Kepler, sat on the floor of some child’s bedroom, dutifully attending a pretend tea party while a young girl who looks nothing like Eiffel and everything like Kate García offers to refill his cup with her plastic teapot. Her lip twitches at the idea.

She clears her throat. Focuses back on Kate.

“They were… among the people who tried to have my crew and I killed.” She watches Kate’s eyes widen. “Don’t worry, Anne was never in any danger. I just—you need to know this, because you need to know what my crew’s been through. They’ve been hurt, isolated, tortured and some even _killed_ because of this company. I’m lucky to have made it home alive, with… what’s left of them.”

She exhales. “Our station AI, Hera, was traumatised beyond belief by what the doctors on board our station did to her. My second-in-command, Captain Lovelace, was… nearly killed on multiple occasions. Dr Hilbert, our science and medical officer, is dead.”

Kate’s stopped trying to ask questions now.

“My communications officer has lost all his memories. Clinically, he’s an amnesiac. But he’s been like family—really, they all were—over the last several years. I trusted him with my life. And by the end of the mission, he was… a good man.”

Minkowski finishes her coffee, and pretends it can give her the confidence she needs to go through with this.

“You knew him. His name is Doug Eiffel, and being sent to space by Goddard is what got your daughter her medical support.”

The expression on Kate’s face melts from fascination to confusion to horror in a matter of seconds, and it’s everything Renée feared. “That’s,” Kate begins slowly, “not possible.”

“Cutter pulled him out of jail and sent him into space,” Minkowski replies, as gently as she can. “He was a talented audio engineer and he was… someone that not many people would miss when he died.”

“Damn right we wouldn’t,” and Kate’s voice is harder, now, colder, “and we still won’t, thanks.”

“Just—” Renée starts, and her hand shoots out to catch Kate’s wrist as the other woman stands up. “Please. Hear me out. If you don’t ever want to talk to him, or me, or anyone involved with Goddard by the end of this conversation, then we won’t make you. Just hear me out.”

A moment passes. The baby is still crying in the corner of the diner.

Slowly, gradually, like a wild animal coaxed into safety, Kate sits back down. She doesn’t pull her hand away from Renée’s. Renée doesn’t let go.

“I told you before,” she says softly, “I knew nothing about my crew when I began working with them. It took three years for me to find out what Doug did to—to you, to your daughter. I didn’t look him in the eye for weeks.” She presses her lips together tightly, forcing back the emotions welling up inside her. “But nobody hated Eiffel for what he did more than Eiffel. And everything he’s done since the moment he ruined your daughter’s life has been to fix his mistakes.”

Renée and Kate both seem to exhale at the same time. “He’s saved my life,” Renée continues, “more times than I can count. He kept me sane. At times, my determination to get him home was… the only thing that kept me fighting.” Her free hand pushes her fringe back, and this time, she’s blinking back real tears. “And he doesn’t remember a thing from his past life. The only memories he has are of the last few months since we left the station. But he’s listened to everything we’ve told him—about you, about Anne, about the person he was and the things he did. And he wants to keep doing everything he can to help you.”

Kate tugs her hand away. “We don’t need his help,” she responds sharply.

“I know,” Minkowski replies hastily. “But at the least, he wants to apologise to you both. I understand if you don’t—if you’re not interested. He doesn’t actually know I’m talking to you. And you don’t owe him anything, but if you ever wanted to—if you were okay to just…”

She tugs out a business card. “Think it over,” she finishes. “Take as long as you need. But you can contact me—and him—on that number.”

Kate takes the business card. She glances over it for a brief moment, and tucks it into her pocket, but her expression is stony.

“I wouldn’t be here,” Minkowski adds quietly, “if I didn’t think he’s a good man. Trust me.”

For a brief moment, Kate’s expression flickers. Then the moment is over—she just scoffs. “No,” she replies assertively. “No. I won’t call you. I won’t forgive Doug just because he’s had a rough few years, just because his memories are gone. He’s not the only one who had a hard time.” It’s her turn to blink back tears. “He ruined my daughter’s life. He almost _killed_ her! If I let him back into my home, after all of that, if I let him back into Anne’s life…”

Kate stands up, wiping her eye delicately with her thumb. “It was nice to meet you, Renée,” she says. “Don’t expect me to call.”

A moment later, she turns on her heel, striding out of the diner and leaving her tea half-finished on the table opposite Renée. The obnoxious bell hanging over the door rings as she slams it shut behind her. Renée stares at the door for a long moment, and sighs.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, the phone rings.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, find me @aihera on tumblr


End file.
